And The Sun Rose Again
by an-intronerd
Summary: "She had been one of at least five people who'd heard the gunshots and screams, but no one had reacted, considering where they were. No one had bothered to run to help or even call the authorities. Two people had been murdered and the culprit had gotten away and no one had given a damn. This was Gotham, after all."


"W-Who are you?" the young boy whispered. His hands were covered in blood and his voice was hoarse from screaming. Tears were streaming down his face, and his clothes were covered in dirt and grime, soaked with a mix of filthy water and blood.

"Mariana. My name is Mariana. What's yours?" the girl replied softly.

"B-Bruce Wayne." He stuttered, but she didn't blame him. After all, witnessing your parents' murder would make even the scum of the Earth feel a little shaken.

"Bruce, I'm going to help you, okay? I promise I'll help you, just hang on." She rose from her crouched position. It had only been a few minutes since she'd found him. He'd been cradling his mother's head in his lap, begging her to wake up and _please don't leave me, mom._

She had been one of at least five people who'd heard the gunshots and screams, but no one had reacted, considering where they were. No one had bothered to run to help or even call the authorities. Two people had been murdered and the culprit had gotten away and no one had given a damn. This was Gotham, after all.

Mariana hesitated a second, not wanting to leave the boy alone, and yet not knowing what else to do, before racing down the street to the nearest payphone.

"Come on, come on, hurry- I need an ambulance and the police! There's been a shooting in the alley right by that old theater in the Narrows. Please, hurry!" she hung up the phone and rushed back towards the alley.

She stopped just at the entrance and noticed that Bruce is in the same position she had left him, but that didn't really surprise her. She made her way slowly towards the boy and resumed her position by his side. Ever so gently, she placed her hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, come on. Let's get up, okay? Help is on the way." There was no response. She doubted her words had even registered in his brain. "Bruce, the police are on their way. So is an ambulance. I promised I would help you, and I will, I just need you to help me too. Can you stand up with me?"

Slowly, Bruce looked over. He was shaking and his knuckles had turned white. For the first time, she noticed the broken necklace in his hand. Half the beads were gone, and when she looked around, she saw them scattered across the floor.

"They're gone," Bruce whispered brokenly, and she turned her eyes back to him. "They're dead, and all because of a wallet and a necklace?" Tears welled up in his eyes, but this time, he wiped them before they fell. She did not mention the smear of blood under his eye. The sirens that wailed in the distance meant the police were on their way.

"I'm sorry. I know it's pointless to say, and I'm sorry for that too. I understand your pain, I know what this feels like, but I promise, it will get better." She was not very good at the whole comforting thing, but she'd hoped this would help. _Dear God, let it help._

"We need to get up now, Bruce. Help is almost here."

Slowly, she slid her arm around his torso and began to rise. "Good, Bruce. Is there anyone we can call? She murmured, "A family member, maybe?"

"A-Alfred. He's our butler."

"Okay. Okay, good." By then, the police cars had screeched to a stop at the opening of the alley. A middle-aged man climbed out and made his way towards them.

"My name is Jim Gordon, and I'm here to help. Son, let's get you warmed up and out of those wet clothes." The man said warmly. He began to reach out to Bruce, but the boy flinched and burrowed himself further into Mariana's side.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Bruce. Jim is going to help, just like me, okay? Come on," she soothed, "Let him help." Slowly, she guided Bruce past the bodies and the officer and towards the car. She nudged him inside, and once he was buckled, she held his hand.

Jim followed the two and got inside as well. Turning to face the children, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss, son. But I promise the man responsible for his horrendous crime _will_ be brought to justice." Bruce only squeezed Mariana's hand tighter. Jim turned towards the girl, "I know a lot has happened tonight, and I don't want to disturb you kids any longer, but I need your statements. This whole process would be over much quicker if you could give them to me right now."

Mariana turned to Bruce, but he just squeezed her hand tighter and looked away. Turning back to Jim, she said, "I can give you my statement, sir, but I need you to call Alfred. He's Bruce's family's butler. He would be able to get Bruce from the station." Jim nodded, slightly in awe of this young girl. _Must've grown up in the Narrows. Place's got a way of ripping the kid right out of you._

He nodded in confirmation, "Of course. And, your name?"

"I'm Mariana. I was coming out of the theater when I heard screams and gunshots. I then heard footsteps running towards me, and I panicked so I hid behind a dumpster." Jim quickly recorded this in his notepad. "I didn't get a good look at the man, I'm sorry. After he left, I headed down the alley, and that's where I found Bruce. Then I called the police from the phone down the street," she recounted.

"Thank you for your statement, Mariana." Then he lowered his voice and directed his attention towards the young boy. "Bruce, I know you're hurting and angry, but I really need your statement." When there was no reply, he continued, "Okay, but I do need you to tell me your Alfred's number so I can contact him, son."

Still no answer. Just as Jim was about to turn away, Bruce spoke up, "You can call Wayne Manor to get a hold of him." Jim waited for him to say more, but soon, it became evident that the boy was done.

"Okay," he sighed. Jim hated this job, hated this town. _Poor kid. Who knows what's going to happen to him now._

"Bruce."

It had been a week and a half since the murder of Gotham City's most powerful, but more importantly, beloved couple. A week and a half since the night that a young boy lost his parents to a horrible death. A week and a half since Mariana had become a full-time resident of the Manor.

His shoulders tensed. "Yes, Mariana? Is there something you need?" he replied. There wasn't much emotion in his voice, and standing in front of the tall window in his parents' room, he had never looked older. Mariana didn't think any child should ever look the way Bruce Wayne did in that moment.

 _Tread carefully, Ria,_ Her mother had said these words to her when they were cleaning up the mess her father had made in one of his drunken fits. She'd been referring to the glass all over the floor, but now, all Mariana could think about was how broken, how shattered Bruce was and she had to step carefully, or she'd get very hurt. She didn't want to be hurt. She'd spent so long trying to become _unhurt_.

"I was hoping that we could do something today. Maybe explore the Manor grounds? This place is so big and beau-"

"No." he interrupted.

"But Bruce, it'll be refresh-"

"I said, no!" he whirled around and screamed. "No, I don't want you to go 'explore the grounds' with you. I don't want to do anything with you. _I don't want you._ I just want to- I just want-"

And as much as she was hurting by his words, she understood. She understood what he wanted. So despite her pain, she quickly marched up to him and enveloped him in her arms.

At first, he tensed, and then, it was as if a dam had broken. Bruce started sobbing, quietly at first, but louder as each minute passed. And all the while, Mariana held on to him because it was what he needed. He may not have wanted her, but he certainly needed her.

As the two children, each with their own pain, their own grief and sadness, sat clutching each other, the sun rose higher in the sky.


End file.
